


For Today

by QuietDarkness



Series: Simplicity and Complexity (Harrisco) [31]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, harrisco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 19:45:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12489440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietDarkness/pseuds/QuietDarkness
Summary: Cisco has a terrifying nightmare that might actually be a vibe of a future event. But Harry refuses to live in fear of what might happen. And despite knowing that something terrible waits just around the corner, Cisco finds himself wanting to agree...'Opposites don't just attract. They catch fire and burn the entire city down.'(Part 31)





	For Today

_There was a distinct lack of sound._

_Not like the muddled rumble of being underwater, or even the silence of a winter field. But nothing. Absolutely nothing. How could there be absolutely nothing? No buzzing or heartbeat or heavy breathing in his ears. Quieter than quiet. More silent than silence had a right to be. And it was painful, it physically hurt. He wanted to cause noise because of it, to fill the air with thunder, to create explosions, to slap his hands against every surface. But he couldn't move. Because not even the silence hurt as much as what was unfolding in front of him._

_Cisco was an observer in this scenario, in such a useless capacity that for a very brief moment he found himself thinking about the Watcher. But the moment fled as events unfolded. Because he was watching Harry, himself and no one else. It was hard to tell if they were alone, though. Because everything else was blocked out entirely by shadows. Nothing about the surroundings was identifiable. And he and Harry were illuminated by some sort of spotlight that didn't seem to have any source. Except that wasn't accurate, either. It was far too strange to wrap his head around. Even harder to ever attempt describing if the need arose._

_In the grand scheme of things, it was an almost innocent scene. Nothing to be afraid of, really. Except for one very disconcerting detail._

_The gun in Cisco's hand._

_The gun in Cisco's hand... pointing right at Harry's head._

_Neither one of them had a lick of emotion on their faces. They weren't moving, weren't blinking, weren't saying a word. Two actors waiting for someone to yell 'action' so they could carry out a well choreographed scene of imminent-_ “Pull the trigger, and they get to live.” _A voice suddenly boomed all around, bouncing off invisible walls, shattering invisible glass, distinctly male and far too happy with the situation at hand. Knowing. Eager. Wanting._ “It's your husband or hundreds of innocent kids and their parents... Kill him now, Cisco.”

_And he watched himself pull the trigger. No hesitation. No emotion. Just the squeeze of a trigger and Harry's head whipping back, his body disappearing into the shadows..._

“Ramon!” He heard his name and felt strong hands on him, firmly holding both his forearms. He could feel his heart practically exploding its way out of his ribcage. The light was on. And damn if he wasn't completely confused at first, eyes wide and panicked as he froze in place, breathing in panicked bursts until Harry's image came into focus. Harry's very worried, tired, messy haired, bloody nosed image.

“H-Harry?” Cisco whispered, feeling all the fight go out of him, Harry's hands slowly loosening on Cisco's arms, cautiously letting one go as he went to touch his own nose, which was pretty much bleeding like a leaky faucet. Shit. “Oh my god...” Cisco mumbled, pulling away and scrambling out of the tangled mess of sheets and blankets. “Did I do that?!” he demanded, yanking a box of tissues off the side table and practically bouncing back onto the bed, nearly tearing a chunk of tissues out of the box and moving Harry's hand out of the way.

Harry relented with a narrow eyed gaze. “You were having a nightmare. A bad one, by the looks of it.” He pulled the wad of torn tissues out of Cisco's hands and stood up. Blood was down the front of his shirt at this point, and he turned his back, heading toward the bathroom. Cisco followed, practically wringing the now warped tissue box in both hands, feeling strangely buzzed off adrenaline and guilty as hell. He watched Harry grab a hand towel and wet it, cleaning the blood off his face and pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat down on the edge of the tub. “Are you alright?” He asked, slightly muffled, watching Cisco somewhat sideways, gaze wary.

“Am I... dude, I just sucker punched you in my sleep and you're asking if I'm okay?” Cisco marveled lightly, then shook his head, tossing the useless box aside and pushing the toilet seat lid down so he could sit on it. Then he took the wet towel from Harry and continued cleaning up the blood with a soft shake of his head. “I'm okay. Just... a really messed up dream. I'm so sorry, Harry.” He said quietly, sighing at the fact that the shirt was a loss. Not that it mattered. Harry didn't care much about clothes. They were easily replaceable as far as he was concerned. 

Gingerly, Harry released his nose, waiting a second to see if anymore blood would drip out. When it didn't, he just dropped his hand to his lap, watching Cisco quietly. Then he reached forward with his clean hand and smoothed some of Cisco's hair out of his face. “Talk about it?” He asked, not an ounce of anger in his tone. And Cisco found himself just blinking at him.

Had anyone else punched Harrison Wells in the face and gave him a bloody nose, no matter the circumstances, he'd have punched them right back. Or yelled at them at least. But nope, not Cisco. Harry didn't so much as bat an eye. He was sitting there in a bloody t-shirt, with probably what had to be a sore nose, and he was worried about his husband's nightmare? Shit. “I think I love you.” Cisco said with a half smile, and Harry smirked with a soft chuckle, dropping his hand and grabbing the wet towel from him. 

“Don't change the subject.” He stood up, moving back to the sink and frowning at himself in the mirror for a moment before setting the towel down and peeling his shirt off. Then he began to rinse the towel out. “You were yelling nonsensically, then started throwing your fists around like you were fighting for your life.” He glanced at Cisco before he began to wash the rest of the blood off, leaving his words there for Cisco to take and run with. And he would. Eventually. Honest. But not yet. For the moment, he just sat there watching Harry get cleaned up. Then he found Harry a clean t-shirt and insisted on inspecting his nose before they got back in bed. 

“I promise I will. Just... tomorrow?” Cisco replied to Harry's final try, curling into Harry so tightly, he was pretty sure the man might just move away from his husband's clingy hands. But Harry simply sighed and wrapped his arm around Cisco before shutting off the light.

“Tomorrow.” He whispered. And Cisco counted. Minutes. Then hours. Till the daylight filtered into the cabin windows. Because no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw himself shooting Harry in the head. 

And as he made breakfast that morning, he kept telling himself it was just a stupid dream. Right? He'd never shoot Harry. Ever. Duh. And even if Harry got shot, he'd heal... right? 

_He wasn't even sure how they'd gotten on the subject. But Caitlin made it seem logical._ 'He can heal from just about anything, but even his abilities have limits. I think certain things might just affect him like they do anyone else.' _Caitlin surmised, standing next to Cisco in line at Jitters as they waited for their order._

'Like what, exactly?' _Cisco asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the guy in front of them retie his tie for the hundredth time._

'Well, damage to his heart might take far longer to heal or not at all. And I can't even reasonably predict what the outcome of an injury to his brain would be. It's complete uncharted territory with healing abilities like this. But honestly... I think it's a question of the type and amount of damage, more than whether or not he could heal to begin with.'

'So,' _he half smirked as the guy gave up and literally threw his tie in the trash can,_ 'You're saying if Harry got a crack on the head, he'd heal. But if he hurt his gray matter he wouldn't?'

'That's a very simplistic way of putting it. But... basically, yeah.' _Caitlin shrugged a little and smirked. Cisco seriously contemplated getting Harry a football helmet as he grabbed his coffee off the counter._

“What's that look for?” Harry's voice startled him, so much so that he dropped the entire bowl of pancake batter, spilling the contents all over the wooden floor and splattering it across cabinet doors and both of their pants and feet. For a long, quiet moment, they both sort of stood there just staring at the mess, Cisco's hands out wide. Then Harry let out a slow, deep breath. “Okay. We're going out for breakfast.” He stepped over the bowl carefully, managing not to step in the bulk of the mess. Then he grabbed Cisco by the shoulders, “Go get changed.” And he turned him around before he could protest.

“But the mess-” Cisco tried to turn around and help but Harry was standing there pointing toward the bathroom with his signature 'don't even think about arguing' look. Cisco put up his hands in surrender and just went to his suitcase, grabbing fresh clothes and disappearing into the bathroom. 

It wasn't till he closed the door behind him and was suddenly surrounded by complete quiet that he realized just how absolutely edgy that dream had made him. Maybe because it wasn't a dream. Maybe it had been something else entirely...

Maybe it had been a vibe.

But shit, that wasn't like any vibe he'd ever experienced before. It was completely unrealistic, and if anything was painted in dreamscape tones, it had been what he'd experienced last night. But the fact he couldn't let it go, remembered it so damn vividly, and felt a bit like he'd lost his mind overnight was pretty compelling evidence that something else was going on. 

By the time he'd managed to get ready, Harry had all the mess cleaned up and even got himself changed. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and was tying his boots when Cisco came out. He took in a deep breath and walked right up to Harry, standing in front of him with his hands on his hips and began rambling, “It wasn't a nightmare, I'm about ninety, or maybe more like probably eighty three percent sure it was a vibe, and I totally saw myself shoot you in the head because some disembodied voice told me if I didn't, then a bunch of kids and their parents were going to die and Harry we shouldn't go anywhere but back to S.T.A.R. Labs because if this is real then we are in bi-” but Harry stood up and literally put a hand over Cisco's mouth with both of his brows raised.

“Ramon.” He said after silence had settled in between them, lowering his hand. “Slow down.”

Cisco took in another breath and then just faceplanted into Harry's chest. “Man, you didn't see it.” He muttered, bringing his hands up to cling to Harry's ribs. The feel of Harry's arms molding around him in return was more than welcome. “Or... feel it. It wasn't like any of my other vibes.” He lifted his head to meet Harry's gaze. “Which was why I thought it was a nightmare. But I really, really think it was a vibe. There's something about it that feels real. Painfully, awfully real.” He watched the wheels turning in Harry's eyes. The way the blues shifted behind his color dampening contacts when he thought. His brows had furrowed softly, and the fine lines around his eyes had tightened just enough to let Cisco know that yes, Harry was taking this seriously despite Cisco's panicked initial rambling. 

“Tell me everything.” Harry urged firmly.

An hour later, they were sitting at an almost empty, quaint little country diner on the mountain road, eating blueberry pancakes (not as good as his, but oh well) and Harry was sitting with his coffee cup turning slowly in his hand on the tabletop as he mulled over every detail. 

“It's not a lot to go on. If it is a vibe of a possible future, then it could be any time from tomorrow to ten years from now.” He said easily, infuriatingly calm. Cisco set his fork down.

“That's your takeaway?” He demanded, doing his best to keep his tone down despite the fact there was maybe one other person within earshot. Harry sighed, pushing his cup away and leaning against the table, folding both hands.

“Yes. Because we've been down this road before. We're not going to stop living our lives because something big or bad is waiting to pounce. Not this time.” There was a strange hardness to his tone. One Cisco recognized. It popped up every now and then since Harry had come back from Earth 714. Being in that place had taught Harry a thing or two about not taking life for granted, or giving in to the evils that tried to put a damper on things. “We'll call Barry and let everyone know what you vibed. But we're not going back till our vacation is over. Unless you vibe something more concrete.” He pushed himself out of his seat then, reaching behind him to pull his wallet out of his pocket. Then he pulled out enough money to cover the bill. “You were right before we left, when you said we couldn't put this on hold.” He tossed the money onto the table and put his wallet back. “I'm not putting us on the back burner because the goddamn multiverse won't leave us alone.” There was anger, growling and held back, in his tone just before he stepped away from the table, and out the door, the bell on it jingling angrily for him.

And Cisco sat there, a lump in his throat. 

Shit.

For a quiet moment, Cisco just stared at their mostly empty plates, tears threatening. He knew why Harry was mad. Hell, he was mad, too. They had every right to be. Every damn time they turned around, someone or something was trying to throw a wrench into their happy-works. Why couldn't life just be simple and easy for awhile? Why couldn't they just catch a break? 

Cisco let out a shaken sigh before slipping out of his seat and heading outside. The air was crisp. The sky was a little gray, the barest glimpses of sun breaking through the tall orange and red leaved trees. There was a gentle breeze at work, just enough to make a light jacket necessary, but not enough to be uncomfortable. And Harry was leaning against his truck, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black coat, staring down at the dirt parking lot, jaw clenching idly. He didn't look up as Cisco stopped near him. “I'm sorry.” He said softly. Why was he apologizing? “I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm not...” he straightened up then, shaking his head and pushing away from the truck with a sigh. “It's not your fault. We can go back to Central City.” Ah, shit. Cisco stepped right into him.

“No, you're right. I just panicked, okay? That vibe... it's all kinds of awful. The idea of losing you? That I... that I could...” Cisco couldn't even finish the sentence. Harry shook his head, bringing his hands up to Cisco's face and stroking his cheeks. 

“That's not going to happen. What you saw, Ramon...” He cast his eyes to the sky momentarily, then slipped his arms around Cisco's sides, “I can't vibe. But I promise you, there isn't a single possible future where you and I don't grow old together. You hear me?” 

Cisco felt his heart ache at the idea. The pure hopeful quality of it. And he smiled softly, just as Harry pressed his lips to his, warm and gentle. 

“Though that doesn't mean you might not want to shoot me. I am kind of an asshole from time to time.” Harry said with a smug smile when he pulled away and Cisco glared, pushing him back. 

“That's not even remotely funny.” Cisco said, pointing accusingly at him. Harry just laughed and fished his keys out of his pockets. 

“You know you've thought about it. At least once. Admit it.” Harry unlocked the truck and opened the door as Cisco rounded the hood. He paused after they both opened their doors, giving Harry a blithe look. “I knew it!” Harry said, motioning at him with furrowed brows. And Cisco chuckled. 

“What? You were a real dick when we first met!” He exclaimed, getting in quickly. Harry followed suit with a shake of his head. And Cisco could admit, he felt... lighter. Despite the awful and strange vibe that was haunting them now. They'd have to call Barry soon. Something that would no doubt dampen the mood again. But he had a feeling Harry would pull him out of that funk, too. 

As they pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the wooded mountain roads, he watched Harry's profile. The handsome, strong lines. The stern, sometimes tense concentration to his expression. The soft glow hidden beneath his contacts. The fact that the man was practically photoshopped, he was so damn gorgeous, in Cisco's humble opinion. He took it all in, like he had a million times over and wanted to a million times more, only to be caught by Harry's side eye. 

But Harry didn't chastise him for staring. He just reached over and entwined their hands together, as easy as two puzzle pieces, continuing to drive as though Cisco wasn't making him out to be some sort of masterpiece. Yeah, Harry used to be a dick. But that was before Cisco knew what kind of heart he had, how intelligent he truly was, how caring, how kind, how loving. That was before Cisco knew he couldn't possibly live without him. 

And in a blink, he pictured Harry being shot in the head. 

He tore his eyes away, staring out the windshield and pulling Harry's hand into his lap, holding on with both hands. _'Not today,'_ he thought. Because today, they weren't surrounded by shadows and there was no gun in sight and there was no disembodied voice booming in his ears. Today, it was just him and Harry. 

And for today, they could be happy.

...right?

**Author's Note:**

> (To be continued...)


End file.
